The Greek's Pregnant Bride

‘I didn’t mean to imply that you were spoilt. I appreciate the Mondelli name has been a mixed blessing for you.’

‘And the Markos name?’ she said, glad to be able to turn the conversation onto him. ‘Has that been a mixed blessing for you?’

He raised a shoulder. ‘The Markos name is nothing special. It doesn’t stand for anything.’

‘Yes, it does. It stands for hard work, determination and guts.’

‘Guts?’

‘Rocco told me you got into Columbia on a scholarship. That alone tells me how hard you’ve had to work to get where you are.’

‘We all have our crosses to bear, whatever background we’re born into,’ he said quietly. He tapped on the dividing window. Amidst a hail of tooting horns, the car came to a stop. ‘We will walk from here.’

* * *

had been hoping for. Set off the beaten track, its marble tables with checked paper table-cloths were crammed inside and out, every one of them taken. Inside, a man played an accordion, the music only just audible above the raucous noise of the patrons, while pictures of celebrities lined the walls in

ever seen ambled over to them, his arms outstretched.

before adding, ‘Mikolaj doesn’t speak any English or Italian, agapi

yanked into Mikolaj’s embrace, which finished with an affectionate ruffle of her

her, fussing over her until he was certain she was sitting comfortably—although how comfortable anyone could be when

but realised

the heat brushing up her

raised his eyebrows. ‘You

to be. You can feel the energy—you don’t get

realise how tense he’d been up to that point. Although unfailingly polite, a barrier had been put up. Was it being here, in his home city, that had caused its construction? Or had she been so wrapped up in her own problems that she hadn’t fully appreciated the effect their situation was having on him? Or a combination

this place apart from the food?’ he said. ‘It’s tourist-proof—all the people in here

me you own

This is

was a Monday